My Faith in Love
by promisenothing
Summary: Rose and Dimitri married young. But when their relationship is tested and fails, Rose wonders if her mother is right - is love not enough? Without a husband at her side, she discovers a whole world of opportunities waiting for her. Will someone restore her faith in love?
1. Love Isn't Everything

"I-" His words faded on his lips and I finally looked up at his face. He is beautiful. He'd always been beautiful. And he'd been mine once. Once, but not anymore. I stood in front of him, the last of my belongings in a bag near the door, as I studied the face of the man I'd always love. Dark shadows underlined his eyes, his endless brown eyes bloodshot from the tears he hadn't shed in front of me.

I gave a weak smile in an attempt to look strong, to pretend that this was what I'd wanted too. But, it wasn't. Dimitri, my first love. We'd married just after I'd graduated, during his second year in college. I'd never known a love like I had with him. I doubted I'd ever find another, but apparently he had. Only a year ago, things changed. I wasn't sure what exactly, but something definitely changed, and the words my mother spoke to me before I'd married him came to light.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" she'd asked me continuously before I'd tied the knot. "I married young. It-" she faltered, her eyes were wide with concern. "It doesn't always turn out the way you hope, the way you wish it will. And especially when you're young, you both don't truly know what you want." But I'd been adamant. "No," I told her. "I love him. And if we love each other then I know I'll be okay."

"But baby girl," she said, her arms around me, "love isn't everything, not always. It will seem that way in the beginning – when everything is lovely and reality has yet to settle in – but sooner or later, you'll realise. Love isn't everything. There are greater things than love."

And now, I still wonder if I believe it. Is there more than love? Real problems. Home-wrecking receptionists. More than love, much greater than love – life.

With a deep breath, I looked down at my shaking left hand, my third finger, where a gold ring lay. It was a family heirloom from the Belikov's – sparkling little argyle diamonds circling a solid white diamond. A beautiful ring given to me by a beautiful man. I slid it off my finger, the weight of it in the palm of my hand, as I lifted my gaze to Dimitri. One last time, I told myself. I'd let myself admire him and our memories together one last time, and I slipped the ring into the breast pocket of his shirt.

His hand reached out and grabbed mine, his eyes pleading. Pleading for what, I asked myself. He's the one that wasn't happy and wanted out. He was the one that slept with the receptionist. He was the one that said he needed to take a break from us. He was the one that didn't want me anymore, so why did I feel this way? Feel the need to hold him against me and tell me that he loved me. Love me now and love me always.

I pulled back hastily, wiping the tears that had fallen from my eyes.

"I'm sorry," he spoke. "I'm so sorry." Dimitri fell to his knees, hugging my legs. "I-I don't know why. Don't know why I feel this way." I whimpered against his hold, my fingers itching to run through his hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered again.

Struggling out of his hold, I pulled back, picked up my bag and left without another glance at the man that broke my heart.


	2. We Were Perfect Together

**Disclaimer: The characters of the Vampire Academy belong to Richelle Mead. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Thank you for the reviews! Such sweethearts! To the anon: Yes, this will be a RoseXDimitri story! But they'll have to go through some heart break before they get their happy ending! So, here's the next chapter :)**

**Note: Some of the characters are definitely OOC. **

"Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough, I don't know why."– Born to Die, Lana Del Rey.

**DPOV**

I watched helplessly as Rose walked out of the apartment – out of my arms and out of my life. The door slammed shut behind her and silence overwhelmed the small space that had once been ours. I stood rooted to the spot she'd left me in, on my knees, as I reached in my pocket and stared at the diamond ring she'd returned to me. I shouldn't be the one holding this; it shouldn't be on anyone else's finger but hers.

"_Mrs Rose Belikova," I'd said to her as I stood behind her, my arms wrapped securely around her waist. We stood in front of Lake Bloom, the sunset visible just beyond its edge – a blanket of orange and red illuminating the sky and everything below it._

_Rose tilted her head back against my chest, looking upwards and smiling. "It sounds perfect," she said. I turned her around in my arms and she set her hands upon my chest. She hadn't stopped staring at the ring since I'd slipped it onto her finger and at the sight of that, I couldn't stop smiling in return. "It _is_ perfect," I told her, "you're perfect." _

Together, we were perfect, but I'd ruined everything. Ruined a relationship that my life spun around and ruined the heart of the woman I love. It had been only a year ago that our relationship had started to changed – for the worse, not for the better. We'd been warned about marrying early. It never ends well, they had told us. I knew that her mother, Janine, hated the idea of our marriage, but I – we – couldn't wait to tie the knot, to confess our undying love in front of our family and friends. Months after her graduation, we did exactly that, and then moved to the city for college – together, as husband and wife.

But I had ruined it.

**RPOV**

"So, how long do you plan on avoiding me for?" I asked Christian, who had been rummaging through the fridge. He jumped up in surprise, bumping his head and cursing inwardly. I stifled a laugh. Since ending my marriage, I had moved into Lissa and Mia's city apartment. "I still don't understand why you're the one moving out," Mia had inquired as she painted her toe nails instead of helping me unpack boxes. With a grunt, I set the box I had been holding onto the hardwood floor, and stretched out my back. "Because," I said, "it was his apartment to begin with. Would you want to live in your ex-husband's apartment?" Mia looked up, the nail polish wand unmoving over her toes, and thought inwardly. "Yes," she said after a pause, "if it meant I'd get to see him suffer, absolutely."

"I'm not avoiding you," Christian said now, a carton of milk in his hand.

"Oh, really? So it's just a coincidence that your phone rings every time I enter a room?" I said as I propped myself up on the kitchen counter. Christian, Lissa's boyfriend and brother of the home-wrecker, placed a pot on the stove and poured in some milk.

"No..." he said, leaning his side against the counter, "not_ every_ time." We stood in silence for a moment, neither of us finding the right words to start the conversation that had been avoided for weeks now.

"I-," we said in unison and laughed timidly. "You first," Christian said.

"I'm not mad at you, you know that right?"

Christian sighed and raked his finger through his tousled jet black hair. His crystal blue eyes shun with concern – concern meddled with guilt. "You should be," he said, looking anywhere but at me. "I should have told you earlier. Should have told you what I knew before you had to suffer anymore heart break."

Towards the last months of my marriage, I'd known something had happened. Granted, our marriage had been troubled, but Dimitri had been more... distant. He'd wouldn't – or couldn't, I wasn't sure – look me in the eyes. He'd stopped sleeping in our bed. When I'd touch him, he'd pull away instantly, as if my touch had burned him, and say that he didn't deserve me. Weeks later I'd heard Dimitri talking to someone in the hallway of our apartment. I hadn't been feeling well and came home early from school. Clearly Dimitri didn't hear me open the door and the conversation continued.

"Just leave Tasha," he was saying, "it was a mistake. I-I was drunk. I don't even remember anything from that night, but whatever happened, it was a mistake."

"But you were so upset that night," the girl had said, "and I cheered you up. We had such a great time together." I must have made a sound unintentionally as they both turned around. Dimitri's eyes were filled with the familiar look of guilt that he'd had over the last weeks.

"You had nothing to do with it," I told Christian now, "it wasn't any of your business to deal with. It was mine. Mine and Dimitri's."

"And Tasha!" he yelled, "She's my sister and you're my friend, that makes it my business! I should have told you the moment Tasha told me but I didn't. I let you live that lie of a marriage for weeks longer than necessary."

I jumped off the counter and walked towards him. I'd known Lissa long before I knew him, but he'd become one of my closest friends, like the brother I'd always wanted but never had. I put my hands on his shoulders, having to stand on my tip-toes to make up for the height difference. "My marriage was broken long before that happened. Tasha was the end game – what made me realize I was living a lie. You having told me wouldn't have made much of a difference anyways."

"Yeah," he said glumly, taking my hands in his, "I could have saved you from finding out the way you did."

I sighed, looking over at the stove where the milk was close to boiling over, "Chris, I'm not mad at you. I understand, and now you need to understand – this is none of your fault. Okay?"

Christian sighed once again, seemingly unconvinced, and moved to turn off the stove. We hadn't talked for weeks now, as Christian's guilt weighed upon him. But I understood. Tasha was his sister, blood trumps friendship, right?

"You can be mad at me. Yell at me, hit me with that annoying Hathaway strength," he said, spreading his arms wide and closing his eyes.

I laughed at his actions, "are you closing your eyes? You really are a wimp." Christian dared to open one eye and relaxed when he realized I wasn't going to hit him... this time.

"Here I am," he said dramatically, "pouring my heart out to you about my guilt and you stand there and call me a wimp?" He shook his head, "That's it. I stand her confident enough in my masculinity to be sensitive and caring and you mock me."

I punched him in the shoulder, and his mouth dropped open. "That really hurt!" he said with mock-hurt.

"What Lissa sees in you, I have no idea," I told him with a smirk on my face. It was nice, I realized, to be able to smile with someone you loved and who loved you in return.

"Oh," he said with a sudden change of expression, "sexy pyjamas by the by." I frowned and looked down at my attire. I had on baggy superman sleep wear and fluffy bunny slippers. He grinned as I placed my hands on my hips and raised my brows. "And what you're wearing is any better, Mr Elmo boxers?" Christian blushed slightly and reached into one of the cupboards to pull out a tin of hot chocolate mix, mumbling under his breath about how it was completely normal to own under garments that had Sesame Street characters on the front.

I laughed. "Now," I pointed to the stove, "make me some hot chocolate?"

Christian grinned and leaned to ruffle my hair which I dodged away from. "Who said I'd make you any?"


	3. Mason

**Disclaimer: The characters of the Vampire Academy belong to Richelle Mead. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Again, thank you for the reviews and story/author alerts! Sorry that it's taken so long to update! There's no scheduled update for this story, especially since uni semester starts up again tomorrow and I'll be busy with assignments and such, but hope you'll still give it a chance :) This isn't a long chapter, but I wanted to give you something to read of this story. **

Nightfall had come early, indicating the approach of autumn. I leaned my head against the cab window; the cold air seeping into the glass, cooling my heated face. The enclosed space smelt as usual, of lemon air freshener that did little to rid the car of the unsavoury linger left by previous passengers. A red light approached, and the car stopped, by a couple embracing on the sidewalk – his eyes on hers, light kisses on lips, tender hands caressing her body. He said something to her, a whisper in her ear, and she looked to the ground, her teeth biting her bottom lip, and she smiled. A smile as her eyes shun and he kissed her, softly. _Stupid girl_, I thought. "He'll just leave you," I said audibly. And though it pained to say, I had been that girl, once – had been the girl standing in the safety of her lover's arms, listening to his heart beat against my ear, savouring his scent and soft touch. I had that, once.

Lissa shifted beside me, her hand gripping mine in comfort, her delicate smile telling me that she understood. Though, sometimes I doubted that she understood. She had the man she loved. She held him at night, kissed him in the mornings, felt his breath against her lips as he told her that he loved her. He hadn't hurt her, ripped her heart out and stomped on it, hadn't yet felt the pain of losing someone that you loved more than life itself. I'd wake up in fear at night; fear that I'd lost him, and my arms unknowingly reached out for the comfort only he could give me. And instead, found the cold and empty sheets beside me, solidifying that I had indeed lost him. I had lost the man I loved.

Christian turned in his seat up front, blue eyes hard as he said: "That is barely a dress. I think you should change, Liss. We can go back to your place, find a nice long sleeved top, and some pants and you'll be good to go. Rose, you agree, right? It's not appropriate."

Lissa shifted again, lifting herself up to pull at the hem of the silver-mesh dress. "It's not that bad," she said. It reached about mid-thigh, tight around her small frame, but nonetheless, a short, short dress. "I think it looks great," I said, smiling brilliantly at Christian, and earning a glare. "It's short, yes, but Mia picked it out. What did you expect?" Christian turned further, his eyes studying me.

"Your dress has sleeves!" The driver chuckled at his dismay.

"Yes, thank you for noticing."

"Well, why aren't you wearing something slutty?"

"Are you saying that I look like a slut?" Lissa said, folding her arms across her chest. I sat back, smiling at Christian's stupidity.

"No!" he yelled, "I-I mean, Rose always wears slutty dresses! Why isn't she wearing one tonight?"

"Excuse me?" I said, "I do not wear slutty dresses!"

He opened his mouth to reply just as the driver pulled up in front of a small, brightly-lit art gallery. Christian paid the driver and got out of the cab, opening the door for us. I punched him in the shoulder as I stood, smiling triumphantly at his pain.

"I swear to god," he said, "I'm going to lose all feeling in this arm soon."

"Good," I said.

People spilled out of the small gallery, some near the entrance, holding glasses of champagne. In the corner, clinging to her latest "soul mate", stood Mia, her hand laid upon his chest. He said something, and she laughed, too loudly, "Fransisco," she said affectionately, "you're such a tease." _Fransisco_ is an artist, from Brazil. He had an art opening tonight, in this gallery. Mia had once said, "art is so boring. I mean, who'd spent hours just _looking_ at a painting?" But each of her "soul mates" brought out a fresh, but short-lived passion in her, and this month, it was art. She noticed our arrival and detached herself from him with a kiss.

"You're here," she squealed. Mia had on a tight, strapless, cocktail dress that left very little to the imagination. Her youthful features and short height, however, gave the impression that she was years younger than Lissa and I.

"Yes," I said, "You forced us to come, remember?"

"Come on," she said, ignoring my statement, "You need to meet my Fransisco before you go inside."

"Babe," she said, her arms attaching to his, "these are my friends, Rose, Lissa and her boyfriend, Christian." He lifted our hands to his mouth, brushing his lips over as he spoke.

"I've heard so much about you ladies," he said, just as Christian pulled Lissa to his side. He had a strong accent, though not one that made my heart melt, and definitely not the accent attached to the man that said my name like a prayer, "_Roza, Roza, Roza."_

He let go of our hands, and turned to Mia, his hands on her hips, hers on his chest, as they kissed. She giggled, like a school girl, as he brushed his lips across her ear, speaking in a language I didn't understand – the intimacy enough for me to blush.

Fransisco led us around the gallery, boasting in his contemporary paintings; some so plain it looked like a simple brush of paint across a blank canvas. Mia shared his enthusiasm though, gushing at his art as if she painted it herself.

Lissa and Christian stood in the corner of the building, her head against his shoulder as she closed her eyes. We'd spent the hour after the tour standing, doing nothing as Mia met Fransisco's friends, though she didn't let us go just yet. I left the building to get some fresh air. It had been a long time since I'd felt like the third-wheel. I'd had Dimitri by my side for so long, I almost forgot how to be me without him – how to act or stand without his body to lean upon, to fit together.

I stepped outside just as someone ran into me, causing me to fall to the ground. "What the hell is your prob-," I had begun to say as blue eyes stared at me.

"I'm so sorry," he said, pulling me off the ground, "I should have been looking ahead-,"

"Yes, you should" I said, brushing dirt off my dress. "Who the hell goes running at this time anyways?"

Blue eyes looked at the ground, his mess of red hair covering his eyes. I noticed then that he had the same look I had – sadness – his eyes red, his hands fisting at his side. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" He put his earplugs in, pressed a button on his phone and started to run before I grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"Hey," I said, "I didn't mean to be so rude, but you did knock me over."

He smiled; a small smile but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck, "Sorry about that."

I shrugged.

"Let's start over," he held his hand out, "I'm Mason."

"Rose," I said.


	4. I Just Miss Her

**Disclaimer: The characters of the Vampire Academy belong to Richelle Mead. No copyright infringement intended. **

Thank you for the reviews, story/author alerts, and favourites! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Roza. Dimka. Reader: This is a RoseXDimitri story! But you'll see a lot of Mason in her life, as he plays an important role in her pursuit to find _faith in love_, again.

**DPOV**

_Soft lips against mine, teasing and pleasing, as she smiled and said: "I love you," The touch so familiar and comforting, so near yet so far. I reached out to her, to grab her body to hold, but I couldn't. She stood still, eyes angry, her hand holding out a fading rose. _

"_But you did this to me," she said as it died in her hands, "You betrayed me." _

I sat upright, my breaths coming in short and trembling. I thought of her face, the betrayal I'd put upon her, _I_ hurt her. I, the man that promised to love and cherish and protect her till the end of days, tore at the trust she gave to me. I stared at the framed photo on my table – _us_, together, in our apartment; she had her arms and legs around me as I held her up, smiling, happy. Her smile, so carefree and real, I hadn't seen in so long – hadn't seen it grace her features as _I_ caused her to be unhappy.

"Were you sleeping?" a voice sounded at my office door, a familiar voice that made me shudder.

"No," I said, my eyes still on the photo, "But please, leave."

"You're avoiding me," she said. I heard the door close, and finally, I glanced up. Tasha, the receptionist in this building, stood by the door, hands fiddling on the folder she held.

I laughed, but the sound held no humour, no emotion. "You think?"

"I don't understand," she said, approaching me, "You're not together anymore," she pointed to the frame, "You need to get over her. Be with someone that understands you."

"I don't need to _get over her_, Tasha!" I yelled, "You don't just get over someone you love! _She_ understood me."

Tasha smiled as she stood in front of me, red nails gliding over the surface of my table, "But that night-,"

"It meant nothing. I don't even remember 'that night'. Please, get out of my office."

And I still don't, only memory of the morning after – a bad, bad headache, silk sheets beneath my body, a strong, unpleasant scent of frangipani, and the unfamiliar, uncomfortable feel of a body beside mine. I shot out of the bed, my hand clutching tightly at the sheet that hid my clothless body as Tasha stirred in her sleep. Her eyes opened, and she smiled.

"Good morning gorgeous," she said, and I shuddered at her sultry attempt, "did you have a good sleep?"

"I-," I didn't understand. It felt like a nightmare; unfamiliar room, the thought of betrayal, her face as she smiled at me, the vagueness of it all. The room spun around me as I tried to remember. "Wh-what happened? What am I doing here?"

Tasha got out of bed, naked, as she approached me, her mouth pulled at the corners. "You really don't remember?"

"No, I don't remember! Where's Rose? Did I fall asleep here?" I had to hope for the best – maybe I fell asleep, naked, but that's it, sleep. I had been to bar the night before, purposely getting intoxicated to forget the fight I had with Rose. We'd been having financial problems; trouble to pay the bills on time, trouble to pay the rent on time, and trouble, for me, to buy her the things she needed, things she _wanted _but acted as though she didn't. _"Loving you is all I need,"_ she said had reassuringly.

Tasha laughed, her fingers trailing a path across my chest, "I don't know," she said, looking up from under long lashes, "did you?"

"Dimitri," she said now, snapping her fingers in front of my face, "Dimitri, are you alright?"

I stood up suddenly, my chair falling to the carpet, "No! I'm not _alright_," my hands tugged at my hair, "I'm so stupid – so stupid to let my marriage go. This job, all I wanted was to be able to give her _more_ – more money to spend, and less to worry about. But look what it did, look what _I_ did to her."

"Dim-," she had begun to say, blue eyes hard.

"Tasha," a familiar voice said; Ivan stood by the door, "get out. Dimitri doesn't need you in here, ever. Leave."

Tasha huffed, and she left, mumbling something under her breath.

"Thank you," I said to Ivan. He sat in the armchair across my table, his tie hung loosely and his shirt untucked.

"So, she's still bothering you?" he asked.

I leaned my head against the cool glass, staring at the trees that lined the pavement outside, birds overhead, sun setting. Rose loves sunsets, I thought. She stood still at the sight of a sunset, admiration on her face, before she'd turn to me and kiss my lips, so softly, so lovingly. I missed her so much, but I scold myself at the thought, because I didn't deserve to miss her.

"Yes," I said, "she calls me every night."

Ivan laughed, and I looked over at him, "It's not funny, Ivan."

He held his hands up, the smile never leaving as he said, "No, it's not funny at all. But man, she's having a hard time letting go, or understanding rejection. She looks at you all the time, love shining in her eyes."

"It's not love," I told him.

"Probably not, but she's clueless. I caught her staring at you the other day, in the cafe."

I stood silently, before saying, "This job, Ivan, it's not worth what I lost."

Ivan stood and came to stand beside me, hands in his pockets. "Have you spoken to her at all?" I gave him a sidelong glance; his look told me that he wasn't talking about Tasha.

I shook my head, "No, and it's not as if she'd talk to me anyway. Why would she?"

"Look, D," he said, sighing, "I get that you're hurting. I get that you're feeling guilty. Be sad, but you can't just stop living. You have to move on. You can't just sit here and feel sorry for yourself for the rest of your life."

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself," I told him, "I just-I, miss her. I messed up, big time. And I just miss her."

"I'm not going to pretend to understand your pain," he said, "but man, you need to get out of this office. You've been here since," he glanced at his watch, "since seven."

I stood still, my eyes on the setting sun, the red and orange lighting up the sky. Her face beyond that, her eyes as she looked at me, right through to my soul. I could just touch her face, so close, so teasing. I need her.

"When's the last time you had a proper meal?"

I shrugged, "I don't remember. I don't really have an appetite."

"Let's go out," he said, "We'll call the guys, have some drinks, maybe Eddie'll actually get a girl this time." He laughed, but I said nothing as he pulled out his phone and dialled some numbers, talking animatedly to the other person.

I stared at the photo of Rose again, the sound of her laughter I could hear, echoing in my mind. I'm sorry, I thought, _I'm so sorry I hurt you._Ivan said to move on, but as if it could be that simple. Where do I start?

**RPOV**

"I forgot to tell you," Mia began, her fingers typing busily over the keyboard of her laptop, "Macon-something called for you," she slammed her laptop shut, "I stayed by the phone last night, because Fransisco said he'd call, and by the by, he didn't. I mean, honestly, is it that difficult for the artist to call me? Or hello, send a message, tell me that you're not going to call so I can go out and have a good time."

I set the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter, "You mean, Mason?"

She sat on the counter, fishing out a bag of chocolate-chip cookies from the shopping, "Yeah," she said, "that's what I said. He said he'd call again today."

"Who's Macon?" Lissa yelled from her room, "Is he the guy you met at the gallery?"

Mia turned, her blue eyes curious, "You met someone at the gallery? Do I know him? Did I like him?" She paused, before biting into the chocolate in her hand. "Probably not. I doubt I'd talk to someone named Macon."

I groaned, "It's _Mason_," I said, just as Lissa joined us, "And I didn't meet him at the gallery. I met him _outside _the gallery."

Lissa laughed, "Same diff."

Mia turned to Lissa, "Is he cute?"

"I didn't meet him," Lissa told her, "Little Miss Rose spent the rest of the night outside," she used air-quotes as she said, "_talking_."

"Yes," I said, ignoring the kissing noises they made as I turned, "That's all that happened. We talked."

"Okay, then," Mia said, hopping off the counter, flailing a note in her hand, "then why is this _Mason_ calling you? Telling me to tell you that," she read off the note, "'I'll call you tonight. Or you can call me? I mean, it's alright if you don't, but.' Then he started rambling and I didn't really catch the rest, but you get the gist."

I snatched the note from her hand; it had his number at the end of the message. Mason and I had spent an hour talking, just outside the gallery. The sadness etched on his nice features held during our chat, but he did smile, often at my stupid jokes. He seemed so sad, and I understood as he told me that he had just ended a relationship. It seemed he desired more dedication, more love from her, but his girl didn't – said she didn't need him anymore. But I understood him, and he understood me. It was comfortable, friendly but intense and something I hadn't felt in a long time – complete understanding.

"So, are you going to call him?" Lissa asked, she had been reading the note over my shoulder, smiling. "But I need to meet him first, you know, before you go on a date or anything."

"Liss," I said, folding the note, "I just got divorced, less than three months ago, I'm not looking for a date."

Mia held a spoon in her hand, licking the chocolate off it, "But it'd be fun! You need some loving in your life."

I snorted, "I don't need any loving in my life."

"Sure you don't," she said under her breath.

A date. I hadn't been on a date since high school. I hadn't needed a date since high school because I had Dimitri, the man of my dreams. He had been all that I needed, all that I wanted. A _date_, I scoffed, as if that'll help.

**FAITH IN LOVE  
**

"You snore," Adrian said, green eyes laughing. He held a lit cigarette in his mouth, inhaling deeply. I sat up, ripping it from his mouth and dousing it in a cup of coffee beside the couch.

"I do not snore," I told him, untangling my legs from the blanket above me. Adrian grinned, a sight that had girls swooning at his feet – but not me, I'd known him long enough to have built a resistance to his charm, sometimes.

"It's okay," he said, joining me in the kitchen. "I think it's cute – your mouth slightly open and the line of drool from your mouth to your chin," he made a cat sound, "dead sexy, Rose."

"You're a pig, Adrian," I said, stifling the smile that crept upon my face. He moved to the cupboard, pulling out a glass and a bottle of vodka – _his_ bottle of vodka, that he kept here for, as he said, "emergencies". He often made himself at home in Lissa's apartment, as she is his cousin he felt the right to. "I need to protect you, cousin," he had once said, "from those sleazy boys out there. And, well, if ever I'm too far to go to my place, I have you here to help me out."

"Lissa isn't here, by the by," I told him now, "so you can leave."

He fell into the couch, smiling brilliantly, "I'm not here to see her, Rose. But I'm hurt that you're not enjoying my pleasant company."

"Pleasant?" I asked, "You're here at," I glanced at the clock, "midday, drinking your "emergency" alcohol, and disturbing my sleep. Yes, very pleasant company you are, Adrian."

He stared as I sat beside him, heating my hands around the mug I held. "Why are you sleeping midday anyways?"

I sighed, "I haven't been able to sleep lately. I fell asleep watching an episode of Dr. Phil."

Adrian laughed and nodded slightly, eyes free of his usual playfulness as he pulled me into his arms. A gesture that held nothing romantic, just comfort. "How are you doing?"

I leaned into his body, inhaling the familiar scent of clove cigarettes and cologne, familiar but not the feel my body craved for. "I miss him," I told him truthfully, laughing though it held no actual hilarity, "I actually miss him, so much that it hurts. It's crazy, right? – for missing him? Am I crazy?"

Adrian brushed a kiss to my forehead, "Rose" he said. "People who are crazy rarely question whether they're crazy." He paused, before saying, "And besides, you were together for years. He's your first love – you'll never forget that. He'll be the guy you compare all other to for the rest of your life – the good and bad. It's going to take more than three months to get over him."

I sighed. "But I feel like I should hate him, you know? Sometimes I actually want to hate him, because it'll be easier to hate him than to love him. It'd hurt less. I hurt, Adrian."

Adrian smiled longingly, "This'll only make you stronger, Rose. The beginning, it'll hurt, trust me, but this pain – you'll get through it. You're strong, you're capable, and you'll get through this."

I looked up at his face – his beautifully chiselled face, his high cheekbones, and eyes a sea of emerald green. "You know," I told him, "For a rich, drunken playboy, you're pretty wise."

He laughed, the sound rich and throaty as he said, "Pretty _and_ wise, right?" I snorted, and he continued, "And if ever you need a rebound guy, I'm here for you to take advantage of." Adrian gestured to his body, smiling that gorgeous smile of his.

"She has a rebound guy," Mia said, coming out from her room, a playful smile gracing her features. "Macon."

I groaned into Adrian's shirt, "Who's Macon?" he asked.

The door bell rang just as I opened my mouth to say 'It's _Mason_', but clearly Mia had no intention of calling him by his actual name. Mia ran into her room, screaming softly, "If it's Fransisco, I'm not here."

I opened the door just as her room door shut to find no one there, just a box on the floor, a flimsy gold box on the door step. I peered around the corner, but the corridor stood empty. I picked up the box and brought it to the kitchen counter. Adrian joined me, peering over my shoulder. "Is this from Macon?" he asked. I nudged him in the ribs as I opened the box. Inside, a note sat on top a rose – the petals pulled off the stem and the stem itself, cut into small pieces.

I dropped the note as soon I read it. It fell to the ground softly. I heard Adrian's concerned voice, calling my name, but I heard nothing else. The note, vague but frightening, read: "_I'll hurt the people he loves the most._"

**A/N: The line "people who are crazy rarely question whether they're crazy" is from the third VA book, Shadow Kiss, one of Adrian's original lines (did anyone recognize it?) :)**


	5. Alone

**Disclaimer: The characters of the Vampire Academy belong to Richelle Mead. No copyright infringement intended.**

… NEW CHAPTER, WHAT?! I know, it's been a while (a very, very long while actually), and this is a short chapter; a filler chapter because I've been having a hard time trying to continue from the last chapter (major writers block), but long chapters to come after this! I just needed a chapter to lead me into the on-coming drama. It's a lot of talking, but essential. But here it is, chapter 5!

* * *

"Where did you go?" Lissa yelled as she stood in the kitchen, spatula in hand and a red apron tied at her hips. I had to stifle a laugh at her tough, parental tone, a contrast to her usual delicate self. "I told you not to go out alone, Rose!"

"I needed a sugar-rush," I said, trying to balance the box of donuts that sat atop the tray of to-go coffees as I shut the door. I turned to my best friend, eyeing the spatula she held in her hand, "you can't hit me. I'm sure I could file a complaint against you. You know, roommate-abuse, traumatic encounter, all that stuff."

Lissa smiled, though it held no humour. "It's not funny, Rose. It's only been three days since that psycho, whoever it was, left that note. He could be stalking you for all you know! He could have attacked you while you were alone!"

I jumped onto the counter, biting into one of the jam donuts, "And for all _you_ know, it could be nothing. It could Christian trying to get back at me for almost burning off his eyebrows that one time. Or Tasha. Because, you know, she actually _is_ a psycho."

"Christian wouldn't do something like that," Lissa told me as she chopped the carrots and threw it into the soup. She stopped mid-way, and turned to me, her brows pulled together as she thought, "you don't really think that Tasha sent the note, do you?"

"I was joking, Lis," I told her in between sips of coffee.

"I wouldn't be," Mia chimed in, yawning as she stepped into the kitchen and snatched the bag of donuts from the counter. "I mean, she's been after Dimitri for, well, ever since she met him. Home wreckers are capable of anything that crazy."

I laughed, unenthusiastically, "Ah, friends, but the note said _I'll hurt the people he loves the most_. If it were Tasha, wouldn't _him_ be, you know, _him_."

They stared at me.

"_Him_," I repeated, "she'd be talking about Dimitri. And she's believed for a long time that he doesn't love me. So why would she send a note contradicting everything that she's said to me in person?"

"Well," Mia said, "because she's a pyscho!"

"Enough pyscho-theories for tonight," Lissa declared, "I bumped into Sonya today and she told me to remind you to send in your plus one card for the wedding."

"If I actually go to the wedding," I said under my breath.

"You can't not go to Sonya's wedding," Lissa chastised as she raced around the kitchen. "She'd be devastated if you're not there. And you can't spend the rest of your life missing out on our friends' weddings or birthdays or new years eve parties because you're scared of bumping into Dimitri."

I shot off the counter. "I am not _scared_ of bumping into Dimitri!" I told her, disbelief lacing my words.

Mia laughed outright, cackling like a hyena.

"I used the wrong word," Lissa said, approaching me slowly as if I'd attack her if she came towards me too quickly, "I didn't mean that you're scared of him. I just meant that you're not ready to see him yet."

"In other words," Mia said, "you're _scared _of seeing him. Hey! Maybe he'll bring a date. We should find you a date." Before I had a chance to reply, she yelled, "oh! You could bring Macon!"

"It's _Mason_," I corrected her, "and no! I don't need to bring anyone to the wedding. _If_ I go, I'll go alone. And I'm not scared of seeing him." I pointed a finger at Mia. How dare they think that I was scared of bumping into him. I was not scared of seeing him at all. I was not scared that all the feelings I'd harboured for him would come rushing back just at the mere sight of him. Not even if he tied his hair up the way I loved; the way he'd leave a few strands untucked and framed around his face. Not even if he looked so handsome in a suit, or the way he'd dance when he thinks no one is looking, or-

"That's not sad," Mia said as she bit into another donut. "You need to bring a date, Rose. Can you imagine if he brought some tall, hot Russian model and they dance all night and kiss and caress each other and you're just standing by the wall crying all night. _Alone_."

"So what if he's with some hot model? We're not together anymore. He can do what he likes." I sank into the couch beside Mia, "He was doing what he liked _while _we were married, anyways. And I'd be too busy wiping _your_ tears to be worrying about mine. We all know how emotional you get at weddings."

"Shut up," she mumbled. "But I still think I'm right. It's basically a rule of break-up. You don't show up alone when you know there's a chance that your ex might be there. You show up with a chiselled, blue-eyed, God with a name like Guye or Pierre."

"So, you're saying I need to find a blue-eyed God named Pierre or else I'll seem lonely and pathetic?"

"Or Guye," she thought carefully, "He needs to be so hot and so intimate with you that it drives Dimitri into mad jealously and makes him regret ever letting you go."

"But what if I genuinely want to be alone?"

"Who in this world ever _chooses_ to be alone?" she asked, then scrambled into her room to phone Fransisco.


	6. Weak

**Disclaimer: the characters of the Vampire Academy belong to Richelle Mead. No copyright infringement intended. **

HEEELLLLO CHAPTER 6!

* * *

**RPOV**

"You're mad," Lissa stated as I slid into the leather booth that lined one side of the cosy, dimly-lit cafe and flung a folder onto the table. "Who did you almost punch?"

"Well, for one, I almost punched that stupid blonde sales rep at Macy's that said, '_it's probably too small for you_.' She should be glad that security strolled past just in time."

Lissa laughed and pulled me into her side. "Talk to us, Rose."

I sighed and pushed the folder in front of her. Her eyes shot up and met the anger that no doubt clouded mine. She reached for it hesitantly and pulled out the stapled form. She read it out loud. "_Release from Lease Agreement._" Her eyes met mine again, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Who sent it to you?"

Mia reached past the table and snatched it from Lissa's slender hands. "That stupid man she once called husband, of course," Mia said, reading the document for herself.

"No," Lissa amended, "I meant, did he," she paused uncomfortably, "did he send it to you . . . himself?"

I laughed, though the sound held no humour. "He sent the papers to my _mother_. She called me this morning."

Mia snorted. "I though he still had another year on the lease?"

"I thought so, too," I said, lifting my hands to rub the pain forming at the front of my head. "He put 'sign here' notes on each page, like I'm a child and can't read or something."

"But you're mad," Lissa said, so softly that her tone sounded troubled. "I thought, I mean, it's a good thing, right? It means there's nothing there that ties you both together anymore."

"I know," I told her, my eyes staring at the papers that lay on the table, "but as usual, I get no say! What if I refuse to sign the papers? What then?"

Lissa shifted in her seat again, her brows pulling together. "What, are you saying _you'd_ stay there instead? In _that_ apartment?"

"No," I said, confused at the sudden change in her tone, "I'm not saying that. I just mean I don't understand. He had all the documents and the financial side of it sorted, but shouldn't I be, I don't know, more involved in the process."

Mia shrugged and her focus fell back to her phone as Lissa and I sat in the silence, her fingers tracing the outline of the side of the table.

"He called me." Lissa said suddenly.

Mia almost dropped her phone, her eyes shifting up from the screen. "What?" she said, the same time I did.

Lissa refused to look at me. "He called me a month ago, told me that about it," she pointed to the papers. "He . . . he asked to talk to you."

"And," I prompted her, anger shot through me as I stared at her.

"And I told him no," she turned to face me, her eyes clouded in unshed tears, "I told him he couldn't talk to you because you'd just stopped crying that night."

"You told him I'd been crying?!"

She stayed silent, but then continued. "He told me that couldn't stay in that apartment any longer and I said I'd get him all the documents he needed from you as long as he didn't try to contact you." Though she'd started crying, she looked determined, protecting of me.

"You thought I couldn't handle seeing him?"

"No," she said adamantly, "I just thought that if it's something that I could help you sort out –,"

"No," I said, jumping out of the booth, "you thought I couldn't handle it. Just like you thought I couldn't handle going to that charity ball because I'd be alone, or that you monitor my phone calls at the apartment."

"I don't do it because I feel sorry for you, Rose," she told me. "I just –,"

"Who came by the other night?" I asked.

"When?"

"Thursday night. Who came by?"

She looked at her hands. "Eddie."

"Right. What did you tell me that night? Who did you say came by?"

She pursed her lips together. "Lisa."

"Right," I repeated, laughing at the pity of it all, "you lied because you thought I couldn't handle seeing Dimitri's close friend."

"He's a constant reminder of it all, though. I know you get mad – you get _upset_ – when you see things that remind you of him. I'm your best friend, Rose, do you think I'd not notice it?"

"But you're coddling me!" I said, trying not to shout too loud.

"I am not," she defended, sliding further out of the booth. "Rose, I'm sorry, but that night, If I'd told you about the apartment,"

"I'd deal. I'd be fine!"

Her stare paused on mine. "Would you, really?"

I left the cafe slightly angered, though not at Lissa, but at myself, angry at the feeling that crept into me and left me feeling like a jealous, moody teenage girl. But I hated that my friends felt the need to tip-toe around me as if I'd so easily collapse and tumble. I don't need to be coddled. I don't need sympathy. I don't need to be lied to; I'd had that done to me already. I just need to close that chapter of my life and feel normal again. But I can't do that if my friends hide me in a corner and shelter me from things that might stir up feelings about my pathetic, failed marriage.

As I stomped along the path, not glancing at any face, I collided into someone coming out of a store. I almost fell back, but he caught hold of my arm before I hit the ground, holding me steady. "How," I shouted at him, "did you not see me? Are you blind? I could of fallen and-,"

"Rose?"

I looked up and found his friendly blue eyes staring amusingly at me, still holding my arm, he laughed. "I'm seriously afraid one of us might get hurt if we keep bumping into each other on the streets."

His laugh made me smile, the sound so nice and comforting and real. "Mason." I imagined my face flushed bright red then. I felt embarrassed for almost cursing at him and acting out like a total bitch. "I-I'm so sorry for yell-,"

He laughed again, letting go of my arm, he ran his fingers through his red hair, "No need to apologise," he said, dropping his hand to his side, "I think it's just as much my fault as it is yours."

I nodded, peering up at the store he'd just left. He held a paper bag in one hand; the ears of a big blue plush toy peeked through the opening. I smiled, pointing to the bag. "Is that for you? A friend for some late night cuddles?"

He blushed slightly and reached into the bag, pulling out the blue bear, "It's for my cousin," he said. "Well, actually, for her baby. She just had a baby."

"Congrats to your cousin," I said. "What's his name?"

"Her," he said, his smile adoringly bold, "her name is Juliette." He stuffed the bear into the bag, "but I bought her a blue bear because she'd get far more than enough pink ones, right?"

I laughed at his reasoning and nodded. "Right."

"I'm glad I bumped into you, though," he said, no flirt in his tone, just his usual cute and friendly demeanour. "I'd ask if you're all right, but judging from the collision and the shouting, you're not . . .?"

I bit my bottom lip and nodded, no longer pent up in rage but I could feel that I might be seconds from bursting into tears. "It hasn't been the best day," I said truthfully. I glanced at my phone screen and realised I had just made myself late for a lecture. "And it just got better." I sighed and started walking, still facing him. "I'm sorry to crash and bolt, literally, but I'm late for class, again."

"Hey, Rose" Mason called out as I hurried off, "my car is just around the corner. Do you need a ride?"

I considered it for a moment, glancing at my phone and back at him. I nodded. "That'd be great."

He smiled and nodded his head to the left, "let's go."

He led me to his car, a nice red four-door, and opened the door for me – though not for any romantic reasons. I'd noticed him open doors for people as they pasted, rush to help someone if they drop something; those little gestures that reflected his caring and gentle personality.

"So," he said one he'd started the engine and made into traffic. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "Do you, um," he stopped at a red light and shifted in his seat. "I mean, I'm not trying to be nosy, but I'm here." His eyes stared straight ahead at the road, the concern and honesty in his tone almost made me fall apart right then. "I'm here if you need to talk it through."

I felt a surge of sadness run through me – all that had been bottled up since I'd spilt from Dimitri rising in a pathetic rush of tears forming in my eyes. "I-," I started to say as I felt those traitorous tears fall. I angrily ran my hands my hands past my face, smiling grimly at the fragility of it all. I flailed my hands in front of my face, motioning to the tears and the anger, and dropped my hands to my lap. "I don't usually cry. But seeing as I'm minutes from flooding your car in my tears, that's probably hard to believe."

He chuckled softy and reached into the console, pulling out some tissues. "Here," he said, looking at me briefly before returning his stare to the road, but his concern still there, still reaching. "Did something happen today?"

And, right beside the guy I'd met only three times before, in the front seat of his car, I let the tears fall free.


	7. Truth

**Disclaimer: the characters of The Vampire Academy belong to Richelle Mead. No copyright infringement intended.**

What, _another_ chapter?! I know right! That last chapter left me in a high and this chapter just came running to me! lol Thank you again for the reviews, follows and favs! (shout out to Roza. Dimka. Reader. and SKDanielle16, because you're both so lovely in each review you send me!) :)

And to that one anon, I'M SO SORRY THIS STORY IS MAKING YOU CRY, but good things come to those that wait, right? ;) and it is a RosexDimitri story!

(P.S. isn't Mason a cutie pie?!)

* * *

**RPOV**

Mason held me as I cried. He had pulled to a stop in a near-empty parking lot and held me to his chest as my body trembled in grief. I'm not sure how long I sat there in his arms, holding onto him as he held onto me, but Mason let me fall apart. "You're all right," he cooed as I lifted my face, my breaths coming in short, but my hands still holding onto his forearms. "It's about time you let these go," he said, touching the tears that still fell past my eyes. I let the beat of his heart and the feel of his breath soothe me. It felt nice – unfamiliar but comforting all at the same time.

He put his hands on my shoulders, his gentle blue eyes staring into mine. "Breathe, Rose."

"I'm s-sorry," I said; mad at the fragility in my tone, in the trembles of my body.

"Hey," he hand came under my chin and the small smile that crept upon his lips calmed me further. "What did I say about apologising?"

The chimes of a phone made me jump. "It's yours," Mason said softly.

I reached into my bag for my phone. I had four missed calls and a text from Lissa that read: _I'm so sorry, Rose. I really didn't mean to hurt you, or to coddle you. I'll be at the apartment, but just please, let's talk. _

I sighed through the hitch in my breath and left the phone in my bag, not bothering to reply in my state of despair.

I leaned back into the car seat and closed my eyes. I let the sun touch my skin; let it dry up the tears melted into me. I felt Mason's eyes on me, his concern and his presence soothing the hurt that pulse through me. "I can't do it anymore," I told him as I clenched my eyes shut, as if I could stop the build-up of tears that formed behind my eyelids. "I can't do it."

"What can't you do?" Mason asked softly.

"I can't pretend I'm not hurt," I opened my eyes and stared at the building in front of us, "I try. I try all the time. I try to smile and be happy and laugh. But I can't do it anymore. I can't pretend that I don't miss him all the God damn time." I turned to him. "Why do I miss him all the time?"

"Rose," Mason said so nicely it made me look at him. "Who said you had to pretend that you're okay? Who said that you needed to be happy all the time?" He sounded so honest and real and understanding. I needed that. I needed someone to be honest. I needed someone to tell me the truth, straight up.

I stared at something past his shoulder, at the thoughts rushing in and out.

"_You_ did, right?"

I nodded and he lifted my face to his. "You did," he repeated, more forcefully. "You told yourself that you shouldn't miss him. You told yourself that you should forget about him. But you didn't let yourself mourn."

I opened my mouth to talk, to argue that, yes, I did let myself cry and be pitiful, but realised that I didn't. I hadn't let myself openly mourn the failure of our relationship, of our plans together, of _him_. "Is that right?" Mason asked and I nodded, because that's all I could do.

"What happened just then, those tears," he pointed to me, "you needed that to happen. You needed to let yourself feel hurt and angry and sad. I bet it felt right to just cry and let it all out."

"But I cry all the time, Mason," I told him, reaching up to clutch his hands that still grips my face, "I cry _all the time_."

"But then you go right back and pretend that you're fine. You don't tell your friends about it. You don't talk about it."

I felt more tears in my eyes. "You _should_ be happy," he said, tilting his head as mine fell to his shoulder in fatigue. "You deserve to be happy. But you can't be happy until you realise that you're hurting and that you need someone to help you through that."

###

**DPOV**

"I thought you said you'd send the paper to me!" Lissa shouted, pushing the front door to my apartment open. She paced the length of the front room, her hands in her blonde hair. I closed the front door and halted her steps, holding her shoulders. She cradled her face in her hands.

"What happened, Lis?"

"What happened?" she shouted, pushing past me to pace the room again. Her eyes looked red, as thought she'd been crying just a minute ago. "You told me that you'd send the papers to me before she found out about it!"

She stared at me, her green eyes full of anger, and such a contrast to her usual delicate self – a side of her that only reared its head out when it came to protect her best friend.

"Oh."

"Oh?" she echoed, "that's all? I told you, Dimitri," she held her breath and closed her eyes. Her tone slightly calmer as she said, "I _knew_ she'd be hurt by this, but to hear it from her _mother_? You know Janine can be . . . too direct. Why didn't you just send the papers to me?"

I fell back a step, using the cabinet to keep me upright. "Janine helped get the papers finalised," and noticing Lissa about to interrupt, I said, "I didn't tell her about it. I didn't go to her for help. She found out from someone and called me. She said, after all the things I put Rose through," I sighed, the distrust and anger in Janine's tone still made me uneasy. Who could blame her, though? I hurt her daughter. She had no reason to trust a man like me. "Janine said she didn't trust me to clear her daughter's name from the lease."

"And so she called Rose about it."

I nodded.

Lissa looked at the floor. "I'm sorry, Dimitri. I had no right to yell at you like I did but -,"

"But she's your best friend," I smiled at her as she looked up, "I get it, Lis, you don't need to defend yourself. You're just protecting her. I get it. She brings that out in people, huh."

She shifted on her feet, a small smile on her lips. "She's my best friend," she repeated.

I nodded. "I'm sorry if she blamed you for not telling her."

"It's alright."

Lissa looked past me, further into the apartment, her eyes lingering on the photo frames that still hung on the far wall – photo frames that held the memories of my marriage, the best memories of my life. She looked as though she might cry again, but she cleared her throat and pointed to the door. "I should probably go."

"Lis," I called out just as she had her hand on the door knob. "How . . ." I faltered. "Is she . . ."

Lissa turned around to face me. Her green eyes studying the emotions that played on my face. She sighed. "She's coping as best she can, Dimitri. She's trying to be strong, like usual, but I imagine it's not easy to fake a smile all day."

"Does she," I looked up at her, "does she hate me?"

"Would you hate her if she did that to you?"

"No."

She smiled but said nothing more before standing on her tip-toes to hug me and closing the door softly behind her as she left the apartment.

###

**RPOV**

Mason pulled to a stop in front of Lissa and Mia's apartment building, the headlights of his car lit up the space that nightfall had hidden. I turned in the seat to face him and he did the same. His blue eyes and red hair shun so brightly in contrast to the enclosed space. "Mason," I sighed, "I-I should-,"

His lips curled at the side, so adoringly. "You should get some rest," he said.

"Do I look that bad?"

Mason laughed. "No, but you look tired."

"So, I look like shit. Hey," I said as he started to protest, "the truth, remember?"

"The truth?" he tried to hide the grin that crept onto his lips. I nodded and he leaned in closer as if he had a secret to tell. "Well, you look like shit."

I laughed, pushing at his chest until he sat back into his seat. "That's so mean."

He held his hands up. "The truth, remember," he repeated.

I smiled, but it soon faded as I thought back to earlier in the car. "Thank you," I told him and I held a hand up before he could tell me not to. "I can't thank you enough for today. For listening, for letting me cry in your car, for," I lifted up the paper bag in my lap, "the burgers and chips." He laughed at that. "Thank you for being there. I honestly don't know where I might've ended up if I didn't collide into you today."

He blushed, a slight blush that crept into his cheeks as he nodded. "Anytime, Rose," he said, his eyes boring into mine. "But for both of us, I think it's best to stop bumping into each other on the street." He rubbed his forehead dramatically. "I think I might get a bruise someday."

We laughed. It felt nice to laugh – to actually, genuinely laugh. But it also felt nice to laugh with someone that understood what you were going through and didn't pity you for falling into that trap.

I opened the door but paused at touch of his hand on my upper arm. "You need someone to talk to, you call me, alright? I'll be there, chips and all," he said. I laughed but if he kept this up, I'd probably end up crying again.

I nodded and stepped out of the car, not before leaning in to say thank you again.

Mason laughed, and I thought then that I could get used to hearing that laugh more often. He rolled the window down as the door closed. He smiled.

"Goodnight Rose," he said, and for the first time in a long time, I felt I might actually end the night happier than I had started out.


	8. What I Want

**Disclaimer: the characters of the Vampire Academy belong to Richelle Mead. No copyright infringement intended.**

**A/N:** just to remind you again that, yes, this is a RXD story. I know it may not seem like it as of now, but I mentioned before that Mason plays a big role in Rose finding her _faith in love_. So there will be a lot of Mason in this story.

And another thing I should add is, this will be a slow story; meaning that it will take a while for Rose and Dimitri to reconcile. They will go through some fall outs but remember that, _in this story_, Dimitri has been Rose's only relationship, so she's trying to find her identity outside of what she's been stuck in all her life.

BUT ENOUGH TALK, here is chapter eight :)

* * *

**RPOV**

"You're home late," Lissa said as she sat up from her place on the couch and ran a hand past her eyes. She had on a blue robe and her hair that she had pulled up into a bun, fell to the side.

I laughed. "What, did you wait up for me?" I set my bag on the counter. "Is it past my bedtime? Wait, no, I broke my curfew. Am I grounded for a month?"

"No!" She shot up and held her hands out. "I didn't mean it like that, Rose! I just meant that, well, you're home late." She glanced up at the clock that hung near the fridge. "It's almost ten. Where did you go?"

"I went out." I held up the paper bag. "I went to get some food."

"But it's been hours."

"Well," I said as I strode past her and dug through the suitcase that stored my clothes. "I stayed for a while."

"Were you alone?"

"I was with Mason."

She opened her mouth. "Why were you with him?"

I pulled out a red jumper and shorts to match then turned to face her. "Lis," I said as I stood, "I was just with Mason, okay? But I'm fine, if that's what you were waiting up to ask. I'm not mad at you, but I just need some time to . . . I don't know. I just need some time."

"Rose-,"

"No," I said to her, and she took a step back, as if it had stung her. "I'm not doing this right now."

Her brows pulled together. "You're not doing what?"

"_This_," I flailed my arms out in front of me. "Whatever it is you're trying to do right now. I'm not doing it."

"What, you mean trying to get my best friend to talk to me?"

"Well, it seems you only want to_ talk_ to me when you feel I'm stable enough to, right?" She made to say something, but closed her mouth as I went on. "When you're done treating me like I'm a small, fragile child, I'll talk to you. When you're done trying to _hide_ things from me, I'll talk to you."

"I'm sorry that you feel like that, Rose. But I'm really not trying to do that."

I sighed. "Look," I held up my clothes and strode towards the bathroom. "It's late, and I'm not in the mood to talk right now. Please, Lis, just let it go for now. I can't-,"

"He didn't send the papers to your mom, Rose," Lis said suddenly. I came to a halt in front of the bathroom door and she went on. "Janine found out and told him not to call you, said she didn't trust him to get your name off the lease."

I stood still. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You want to truth, right?" she asked, her hands held out. "No more lies, no more hiding. Here it is – he still cares about you."

I laughed grimly. "Oh," I spat, "so the man that _cheated _on me still _cares _about me? That warms my cold, still heart."

"See," she laughed, "you only want the truth that you're ready to hear, not the truth that scares you."

"No," I said, stomping back to her, "I want the _truth_. I don't want to hear some crap of words that comes out of the mouth of someone that realises he did something shady and disgusting and _wrong_."

"He didn't say anything."

I smiled gladly. "Then you don't know that it's the _truth_."

"I know it's true, Rose," she said as I opened the bathroom door, and just as I shut it, she said: "I _saw_ it. The eyes don't lie."

I snorted and stuck my head out the door. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say, Lis."

"Is it?" she shouted as the door closed and I sunk to the bathroom floor.

###

**DPOV**

"He said he'd be here at one," Jane said as she glanced at her phone. "He's almost an hour late!"

"He's the company's highest paying client," I said as I set my focus back on the documents that Mr. Donahue needed to sign. "He pays for the time that is wasted on his behalf."

"I don't care," she said, folding her arms. "I need to finish the Mastrano report by tonight."

"Emily Mastrano?" I inquired, "I thought the papers for her case had been sent out to administration on _Monday_?"

Jane huffed and slid out of her chair, "I thought so, too," she said, grabbing her leather bag, "but it seems that Ralf needs help completing a simple court report." She glanced at her phone a second time, then at the restaurant door. "I need to touch-up; _if_ he gets here before I'm out, call me."

I nodded and leant into the soft, leather seats of the cosy, Italian restaurant that often catered to corporate dealings; suits and hush tones filled the room as negotiations rolled out. Mr. Donahue preferred restaurant-lunch appointments, claiming that all corporate buildings housed spies and traitors eager to see his company fall. He refused to step into such a corrupt setting and demanded a great deal from us to protect his company, but paid just as much to compensate for the time needed to see it through.

We were seated by the window; with a clear sight of the busy city streets outside. I had spent another night without sleep. Without the touch and feel of her curled up by my side, I found it hard to do anything, let alone ease my mind in the stillness of the night. She clouded my thoughts; the look of hatred on her face, the look of hatred that she had for _me_, haunted me still.

"_I knew it," she said as she took a step back and clutched the back of the couch, "I _knew _something was wrong." _

"_Roza, please-," _

"_No!" she shouted and pushed my hand that reached out to her. "I swear to God, Dimitri, if you touch me . . ." _

_She shook her head as tears fell past her red cheeks. "I knew it," she repeated. "I'm so stupid. I _knew_ it and I stayed here, night after night in our bed-," she looked up, her eyes clouded in anger. "Oh, God," she glanced towards the bedroom and a small sob left her trembling lips. _

"_Oh, _God_, you slept with her in our bed, didn't you?" _

"_No!" I held my hands out to her. "Roza, no! I didn't, not in there." _

"_Oh," she laughed bitterly, "so then it's okay then? God forbid you sleep with another woman in _our_ bedroom." _

"_Roz-," _

"_Stop calling me that!" she yelled, clutching her head. "You can't call me that anymore!" _

_Her legs fell weak and she slid to the ground. I reached out to steady her but she pulled back, like my touch had burned her to the core. She stared up at me, eyes that bore no warmth; eyes that held nothing for me anymore. _

"Your drink, sir," the waiter placed a cup of coffee in front of me and smiled.

I mumbled a thank you to her and I ran a hand past my face, as if I could wipe away my thoughts. I couldn't though. I couldn't ever wipe away those thoughts until the day I could do something right and she could forgive me – if one day I could feel her in my arms again. But that was simply wishful thinking.


End file.
